


A Thing for Dark-Haired Seekers

by Quill_lumos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-20
Updated: 2008-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill_lumos/pseuds/Quill_lumos
Summary: Ron has always tried to be what everyone wants him to be. A good father, brother and husband, but an encounter with a certain dark-haired Seeker sets Ron's ordered world on end.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Pairings: Ron/Viktor, Ron/Hermione, (implied) Sirius/Remus, (implied) Fred/George (implied)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter, related nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. It all belongs to JK Rowling. Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Brothers and any other entity involved. 

 

Thanks to my dearest girl for betaing and to Gina for her help and support.

 

**A Thing for Dark Haired Seekers**

 

Ron was trimming the twigs on Forbes Fletcher's broom. Fletcher was currently the Cannon's star Seeker. Ron didn't like him very much; as far as he could tell nobody liked Fletcher very much. He treated Ron as some sort of personal servant. He was rude and dismissive, and earlier Ron had come within inches of hitting him. The redhead's temper had not diminished in some ways, it remained as volatile as it had been at school, sometimes flaring up like a forest fire in August. He controlled it better now though, most of the time anyway, but Fletcher truly was too much provocation sometimes. 

He stopped his work for a moment and closed his eyes. With his eyes closed he could feel the silky twigs with more intensity. He took a deep breath and let his fingers feel the smooth polished wood. Touching the broom soothed him. The scent of the sweet apple-wood filled his nostrils and he let the sensations wash over him, calm him. Finally he opened his eyes again, feeling a lot better.

Fletcher had no idea that they were trying to replace him. He was just too much trouble. There were better Seekers, far better. Ginny was better, Harry certainly was and Harry had never flown professionally. But Fletcher seemed to have decided that he was irreplaceable and he took out his temper tantrums on Ron. 

Ron had been involved with the Cannons almost since his schooldays. Since just after the war and he had far more say in the team than anyone suspected, anyone but Harry and George that was, oh, and Hermione, of course.

Ron had never regretted not becoming an Auror. George had needed him so much after the war. His big brother had shut down for a while. He had been almost catatonic for several weeks and Ron had been the only one who could take over Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and stop the business failing, the only Weasley whose life had been at a crossroads anyway, so take over he had. Later when George began to recover, Ron couldn't leave then, either. George had needed him and Ron had surprised himself and, he suspected, everyone else, with his business acumen.

He hated to think of that time. There had been immense joy and relief after the war, relief that old Voldie was finally dead, joy that the war was over. But Ron hadn't been relieved or joyful. He had lost his innocence, his optimism when Fred died. Harry had collapsed too. He had lost so much and Ron had not known how to comfort him, until that day when he had found Harry alone sobbing, had wrapped his arms around his friend and held him, had found himself breathing in the scent, the essence of Harry, had found himself laying a tender kiss on Harry's lips.

Sometimes when it was quiet, at night and he was all alone, Ron could still picture the look of shock in Harry's green eyes. For a while things had been really awkward between them. Harry had thrown himself into his work and avoided Ron. Harry had always been good at avoidance. But things were okay now, they really were. He and Harry got together regularly and he was always welcome at Ginny's house, even if he couldn't quite bring himself to look his sister in the eye sometimes.

He did his best, he always had, ever since that time when he had been deceived by the Horcrux and lured away. He did his best to be a good friend to Harry, a good husband to Hermione, a good brother and a good father. But the time he spent with the Chudley Cannons was for him, it was his time, his salvation.

"You have transformed that broom, Ron. It was looking really shabby." Ron turned and looked at Cuthbert Flybinight, the flamboyant manager of the Cannons. The man looked resplendent in powder blue robes. He always took such care of his appearance, and usually appeared with nary a hair out of place. He reminded Ron of Gilderoy Lockhart in many ways. Fortunately he was nothing like Lockhart in personality. He was a good man, a driven man, and he had been like a second father to Ron over the years.

Ron smiled.

"I heard what happened today. As far as I'm concerned, I have had enough of that man and his demands," Flybinight continued. "I am going to sack Fletcher, he has no right to speak to you like that. You are even more important to us than Fletcher. If it weren't for you, Ron, the Cannons would have gone to the wall years ago and Fletcher wouldn't have a job. None of us would."

Ron didn't know what to say. He felt warm all over. But also felt just a tiny bit concerned.

"You aren't going to tell the team about the money are you, Cuthbert? I don't want them to know that I am a share holder. I have been accepted here, just for being me, and I don't want to jeopardise that. I fit in here, I don't want everyone to think that I bought my way in." Ron knew now how Harry had felt all those years ago, when he thought people only wanted him for his money or his fame. He had spent years avoiding people who seemed to only want to get to know him because of his friendship with Harry or because of his connection with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

The one time that Ron had been a bit indiscreet had got him into a lot of trouble and nearly finished his friendship for good. Harry had forgiven him a lot over the years but that article had nearly destroyed him, and having seen the article Ron could understand why. They had taken his words and twisted them, embellished them until they were almost unrecognisable. Harry could forgive just about anything it seemed, but press exposure was unacceptable to him. They had had the worst row that they had ever had. Ron had been tricked, he had found himself being bought drinks by a very friendly chap who had managed to hide the fact that he was a reporter until he had some very juicy stories about Harry. It really had been an honest mistake on Ron's part and in the end Harry had seen that and understood.

But Ron felt that he had used up all his chances with Harry and he was not going to risk losing his best friend, not ever again. So for a long time he had kept to himself, avoided making new friendships and instead clung tightly to the relationships that he already had. But as the lives of his family and friends grew busier Ron had found himself more alone than ever, until he had met Cuthbert one night at the Leaky Cauldron and the Chudley Cannons had become such a part of his life. When Hermione had been away so much studying, he had somewhere to go. When he didn't think that he could stand George's grief any longer, or when he had been at home so much with the children - because Hermione was building her career, and so most of the childcare fell to him - that he just needed a place to be someone other than just his children's father or Hermione's husband the Cannons offered sanctuary.

Then six years ago the Cannons had at long last run out of luck and even worse they ran out of money. Their investors had finally had enough of their seemingly never-ending losing streak and the bad publicity and had pulled out, leaving Cuthbert desperate. Ron had thought about it for two whole days, he had discussed his plan with Hermione and been given the go ahead by George, and then had turned up at Cuthbert's office with a ten-year investment plan and enough funds to carry out his ideas. 

He had been an integral member of the team ever since.

Ron thought that he had probably got his initial invitation to be a supporter because of his connection with Harry. Being Harry's 'best friend' had ensured that he had received all kinds of invitations over the years. But then his general willingness to become a sort of behind the scenes dogsbody had gradually won him a permanent place behind the scenes and an occasional practice game with the team. He would never be good enough to actually play as a team member, but the disparate group of individuals that was the wider population of the Chudley Cannons had absorbed him and welcomed him and Ron felt more at home here that he did just about anywhere else.

Ever since his investment Cuthbert had seen him as the team's saviour, but he had always begged the manager not to tell anyone else about the money that he had given to the Cannons. He didn't want to lose his sanctuary, he didn't want to be treated differently. They were fond of him it seemed, just for being himself, Ronald Weasley. The players and the support team valued his enthusiasm, they valued his expertise in maintaining their brooms, but his role wasn't crucial to the team, they could survive without him around. And that meant that when Fletcher had launched into his diatribe, people had been reluctant to step in, to defend him. Oh, they liked him well enough, he thought, but their Seeker was essential and they didn't know whether to intervene or not. 

"You can't sack Fletcher yet," Ron said. "We need him, at least until we find someone else." Cuthbert smirked at him. 

"I have found someone else, he'll be here in about half an hour. There is just time to tell Fletcher to fuck off, and you, Mr Weasley, are sitting in on that interview!"

Ron ducked his head to hide his smile. Cuthbert's warm regard always made him feel better about things. He followed the manager into the office only to be joined a few minutes later by Fletcher. 

Forbes Fletcher was a very good-looking young man, but his charming good looks hid a selfish and rather ugly inner core. He sneered at Ron as he entered.

"Hi Cuth," he drawled. "What is this loser doing here? Have you finally decided to get rid of him? He is a waste of space, trading on his friendship with the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World'."

"That will do!" Cuthbert said. "This is not about Ron, this is about you, and your rudeness and your arrogance. It has nothing to do with Ron!" 

"Oh, has he been whining to you because I've told him a few home truths? The man is nothing, he is a washed up never-was, trading on the fame of his family and friends. He's a parasite!"

Ron was shocked at the hatred that Fletcher seemed to be spouting. "What have I done to you to make you hate me so much?" he asked, not even trying to mask his astonishment.

Fletcher whirled on him. His face was contorted with what looked like disgust. "I remember you from Hogwarts!" he spat. "I was two years below you, you don't remember me do you? You were so busy licking Harry's arse, following him around like a little dog! Merlin knows what he ever saw in you!"

Ron stepped back, taken unawares by the sheer hatred on the other man's face.

"I said that will do!" Cuthbert moved forward and put his hand on Fletcher's shoulder. "I called you in here to tell you that you are fired. I have had enough of your attitude and I will not let you speak to Ron like that!"

Fletcher wheeled on Cuthbert now, "What? You are going to fire ME? Me! Not him? He is the one who is useless, I have saved this team!"

"Actually," said a new voice, " I zink you are wrong. It is Ron who has saved zis team, zis man is why I am here." Ron was sure that his jaw had dropped. Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and Ron's hero since he had been about thirteen years of age had just walked into the office and he was defending him?

"You are defending him?" Fletcher said, echoing Ron's thought. He sounded as astonished as Ron felt 

"Yes I am," Viktor said. "He is a wery brave man, and ze reason that I have agreed to come to join ze Cannons." He turned to Ron and smiled at him. "I look forward to vorking wiz you Ron."

He was standing very close to Ron now. Ron could breathe in the sharp masculine scent of him, a tangy smell like moss and pine woods and the outdoors. Krum smiled, a possessive, rather feral smile. He ran the back of his hand along the side of Ron's jaw, touched his finger's to Ron's lips. "Wery much indeed."

Ron felt awash with warmth. It flooded his veins and seemed to pool somewhere around his groin. The Bulgarian man was smaller than Ron but stockier. Although his hair had just a touch of grey in it at the temples, he was strong, immensely powerful. Ron felt himself melting under the gentle touch. The last time he had seen this man, it had been at Bill's wedding and Harry had dragged him away before Ron could lay one on him. It seemed the Seeker had now shifted his interest to Ron rather than Hermione.

"I...er…welcome to the team…er, Mr Krum," Ron said. He knew that he was blushing, he could feel the heat in his cheeks, but he didn't quite know how to react.

"Not Mr Krum, Ron, my name is Viktor, remember?" He touched a finger to Ron's lips this time. It was like an electric shock. Ron gulped.

Had Viktor Krum, star Seeker, just come on to Ronald Weasley? Ron was not sure, but deciding that he was not going to stay around to find out. Ron bolted. "Erm….I'll leave you to it, I um…have to go!" Ron spluttered as he headed for the door. He didn't wait to see what Cuthbert's reaction was, or Fletcher's and definitely not Krum's, he so did not want to know what was going on there.

He finally breathed a sigh of relief when he reached his workshop again. He felt safe here. This little space had been his sanctuary more times than he cared to remember. He was totally confused, he didn't know what the heck Cuthbert was up to. Why would Krum agree to play for the Chudley Cannons? Okay, they were no longer in danger of bankruptcy and they were a moderately successful team, but surely not in Krum's league? Krum could have his pick of any Quidditch team he wanted. Even if he was a bit old to be a Seeker, he was still one of the best. Ron needed to talk to Cuthbert, but he wasn't going to do that right now, not when Krum was still there.

He jumped violently when the door opened. He wasn't expecting anyone to follow him to his little cubby hole, so he hadn't locked the door. The team had all gone home, and at the back of his mind he had assumed that Cuthbert might track him down when the meeting had finished, but he wasn't expecting the manager yet.

"You have grown up to be a wery fine man, Ron Weasley. Wery fine indeed." Krum was leaning in the doorway a rather lascivious look on his face. He licked his lips and moved slowly over to the workbench where Ron was standing until he was right beside Ron, far too close for comfort in Ron's opinion.

"Did I upset you?" Ron could feel the man's hot breath on his cheek. Krum was shorter than Ron by at least three or four inches, but he seemed so powerful. He put his hand on Ron's chest and held it there. It felt hot, strong. Ron was only wearing a thin t-shirt because the day had been so warm. Krum ran his thumb over Ron's nipple, smiling in satisfaction as the nipple hardened under his caress. 

Ron gasped.

"Your muscles are wery firm," Viktor whispered, sounding almost reverential. "You are a wery handsome man and so responsive."

This time, Ron gulped.

"Are, er…are you flirting with me?" he stuttered.

Krum's smile widened

"Of course I am, Ronald, it is not obvious? How innocent you are!"

Whilst he was speaking he had snaked his other hand up over Ron's shoulder and along his neck, causing Ron to shiver deliciously. The hand continued its path, fingers played with Ron's hair, which fell in shaggy curls to his shoulders. Then Krum grabbed the back of Ron's head and pulled it toward him. Before Ron had time to register what was happening, Krum's lips were claiming Ron's in a fierce, hard, determined kiss.

He pulled Ron closer, so that their bodies pressed against one another. Ron could feel the other man's firm, flat chest pressed closely against his own. He felt so different from Hermione. Her flesh was soft and unresisting, Krum felt so different, each muscle was clearly defined and hard, unyielding. Krum had his hands buried in Ron's hair so that Ron could not have pulled away, even had he wanted to. But that was the most astonishing thing as far as Ron was concerned. He didn't want to pull away, he wanted to be here, he wanted this. His cock was hard and swollen, trapped between Krum and himself and the delicious friction as they rubbed against one another seemed to be melting his brain. As Krum's insistent tongue demanded entry to his mouth, as his hands held Ron's head where the other man wanted it, as his legs and body pressed against Ron's, keeping him in place beside the work bench, Ron surrendered, allowing Krum to do whatever he wished to awaken the sensations that were flooding through him. And then Ron heard a roaring in his ears, his vision blurred and his whole body felt as if it were on fire as the most intense orgasm that he could ever remember ripped through his body.

***

The flat was quiet when Ron got there and he assumed that George was asleep. Hermione would not be home for another two days, she was at an elf rights conference in Strasbourg. Now that Hugo, the youngest of their children, was at Hogwarts too, the house seemed terribly lonely sometimes so at those times Ron stayed with George.

Ron popped the kettle on. He was feeling deeply unsettled. Krum's touch had been searing, burning his skin, setting him on fire. 

"Make mine a coffee," George said smoothly, causing Ron to nearly drop the kettle. "Hey bro," George said, "you seem a little jumpy tonight?"

"I...erm…I'm fine," Ron said, but his voice wasn't as steady as he would have liked. He would have been okay. He would have dissembled as he usually did, put on his bluff Ron persona, hitched up the "too thick emotionally to notice anything aura," that he had cultivated over the years, but then George touched him. He put a hand in the small of Ron's back and pulled him into a rough sort of hug and Ron was undone. 

He knew when Krum had first laid a hand on him that he couldn't hide much longer, but he had hoped for just a little more time. He couldn't help himself he let out a strangled sob and before he knew it George's arms had been wrapped around him and he found himself being hugged by his big brother.

"I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me, Ron," George said finally. Ron had sobbed for what seemed like hours. His eyes felt scratchy and swollen and he was sure that he looked like he had been smacked in the face by a broom. They were sitting on the large, worn sofa in the tiny sitting-room. It was patched and aging and Ron still remembered George and Fred's delight when they had found it in a shed at the Burrow and carted it home to furnish their flat, as they had had no money for such fripperies as furniture back then and the sofa had seemed a tremendous find. Ron remembered how he had helped them magically manhandle it up the twisting staircase; they had had to shrink it in the end. Over the years it had gradually returned to its normal size, but they both liked it like that it made the otherwise rather stark sitting-room cosier somehow.

"Ron." George said in a warning tone.

"I think I might be gay," Ron blurted.

He finally knew what a pregnant silence was truly like. His words hung in the air and he wanted to call them back, but it was too late. He ran his hands over his face, almost as if he could wipe away what he had just confessed.

"And?" George said

Ron stared at his brother in disbelief. "I'm gay, George!"

"So you said. Are you really that upset about the fact that you think you are gay, or is the fact that you are a married man with three children who is only now discovering that he is gay?"

Ron laughed, a cold bitter sound.

"Oh no, I've known I am gay for years I just didn't admit it till now!"

"Aaahh! So what happened today to cause you to finally decide to come out of the closet then?"

Ron sighed deeply, and then he told his brother everything. Everything that had happened that day, everything that had happened since he was seventeen, everything that had happened since he had fallen in love with Harry.

"He was always my friend, even when I didn't deserve it and there were plenty of times when I didn't deserve his friendship. Then I pulled him out of the lake. Oh Merlin, he felt so good in my arms, so firm, not like a girl. He was so helpless and it made me feel powerful. I couldn't forget that feeling, nothing has felt like that since. Not anything."

"So you're in love with Harry and have been for years?" George said.

Ron nodded, he couldn't speak.

"Oh mate!" George whispered softly, "Harry is never gonna fall for you like that, he just couldn't, you know? The upbringing he had with those shitty Muggles. Poor guy never stood a chance of doing anything other than marrying the first girl that would have him, so that he could make his own family."

"That's not true!" Ron said, hotly. "Harry loves Ginny!"

"Does he mate? Do you really think so? Cause I don't. Gin is my little sister and I love her to bits, but she set her sights on Harry when she was eleven years old and never let go. I sometimes wonder if the wrong Weasley brought Harry Potter into the family. He has been a good husband and father, but he never stood a chance to find out anything about himself.

"I don't think he's unhappy though, I reckon he's good at making the best of things. I think he cares about you more than anyone except perhaps his kids, certainly more than he cares about Gin. But he would never act on those feelings, so our sister's marriage is safe. He is too much of a hero to play around, he is too fucking decent for his own good, and maybe for yours huh?"

Ron's eyes were damp again, tears were streaming down his face but he was laughing too. He couldn't seem to speak, couldn't get the words out, but he had just thought of something, Ron thought that it was the funniest thing that had ever occurred to him.

George was looking at him with his head on one side, he resembled a puzzled budgie. That made Ron laugh even harder 

"What is it?" George asked

"My sister got my life!" Ron giggled. "Selfish bitch, it should have been me!"

Then they were both laughing. Helplessly, hysterically, they were clutching each other, holding tight and neither of them seemed to be able to stop the mounting hysteria.

Finally after what seemed like hours, finally they stopped laughing. Exhausted, they sat quietly, drained of energy, slumped beside each other.

"I am such a fuck up," Ron said finally.

"No you're not, baby bro!"

"I fucking am, George, I am nearly forty years of age and I am just finding out that I might be an arse bandit. Just now admitting to my self that I have fancied my best friend for years, all these bloody years. I mean what the fuck is that all about?"

"We are all screwed up mate, every one of us, we've all got our secrets, our hang ups, you're not alone Ronniekins."

George was sprawled on the sofa, he wasn't looking at Ron, he was staring at the ceiling.

"We all have our secrets, mate," he repeated, but so softly that Ron almost didn't hear him.

"Do you have a secret, George? Do you want to share?" Ron said. It was as if a spell had been cast, George had never spoken to him quite like this before, never so intimately, he had always had Fred, and then when their brother died, George had shut down his emotions, not spoken to anyone. He had been in such pain now for so long, so very long, maybe it was finally time for him to open up?

He needed to share his pain and Ron hardly dared breathe, just in case George was going to talk to him, really talk, like he hadn't done since Fred had died.

George sighed deeply. He turned and looked closely at Ron for several moments almost as if he was trying to judge Ron's sincerity. Finally he seemed to reach a decision, he turned back to study the ceiling again and then he started to speak.

"I wasn't going to tell you about us, you have always been too uptight baby bro. It isn't your fault, I blame Mum, there's no-one as uptight as her. Look what she did to poor old Percy."

"Is Percy gay?" Ron interjected, his interest piqued despite his promise to himself to let George talk.

"Percy? Nah! He couldn't find his own arse with a map and a compass never mind anyone else's." George turned and looked at him then, a wicked gleam in his eyes, reminiscent of the one that had always used to be there, the one that nobody had noticed until it went away.

"I reckon that he is practically a virgin! I am surprised he found his dick at all, if Penny hadn't been the determined sort they never would have had a sprog."

"Are you gay, then?" Ron asked

"Not particularly, I have slept with men and women, hardly ever the same one twice once Freddie died. For me there was only ever one person, will only ever be one person. I reckon I'm Fredsexual."

Ron nearly said something then, something unforgivable. He forced himself to close his mouth and then bit his lip, yeah that worked. Kept him quiet and stopped him looking like a gormless git.

Ron felt like he had been hit by another bludger, or maybe several, thrown by Goyle, and Crabbe. Fred and George?

"I know you're shocked little bro, but I need to tell you, I need to tell someone, someone from our family, someone who won't think I'm a fucking pervert, or won't say it anyway."

When George looked at Ron again his eyes were rimmed with red.

"I loved him more than my life, he was my day and my night, he was the other half of me. He was my light, Ron, my air. There has not been a single day, a single hour, when I haven't missed him so fucking much that it hurt like Cruciatus." George's teeth were clenched as he spoke almost as if he was tearing the words from his very soul.

Ron couldn't speak, part of him was shocked beyond belief, but he couldn't turn away, this was his brother, his George, the quieter of the twins, the one who had reined in the worst of his brother's excesses. He also felt, very deep down, that some bit of him had known for a long, long time. There had been clues, hadn't there? Long looks and touches, stolen touches. He had been working with George for nearly twenty years, they had spent nearly every day together, and all this time George had nursed his secret along with a huge burden of guilt.

"Do you think he died as a punishment for what we were doing?" George whispered, his eyes were filled with terror, he grasped Ron's arm fiercely. "We tried so hard not to do it, not to make love." The last words were whispered, almost as if George hardly dared to allow them existence. "For a long time we fought the urges and then, and then we couldn't anymore. It just felt so right being together, so perfect. It was more like self pleasure than anything else. I knew every inch of his body; he knew every inch of mine. We knew what the other's greatest pleasure was and it was so perfect, always so perfect."

George had stopped speaking and he was staring directly at Ron, he looked so raw, so vulnerable that Ron didn't quite know what to say. So he didn't say anything, he just wrapped his arms around his brother and held him in his turn whilst George sobbed out twenty years of grief. 

Slowly he ran his fingers through George's copper coloured hair, trying desperately to soothe him, to comfort him, and it seemed to be working. The sobs quieted.

"It wasn't a punishment, George, it was the war, it was shitty and awful what happened, but it wasn't anything that you two did. If I am honest I think that I guessed a long time ago that something was going on between you, but you never hurt anyone, did you?"

George shook his head, damp red curls brushing against Ron's neck.

"There is nothing wrong with love then, as long as it's consensual, as long as you both wanted it," Ron said. He wasn't quite sure that he really meant that, but he knew that George needed to hear it.

Ron wondered for a moment whether he was as uptight as George seemed to think, and how much of that was Molly's fault. Molly like a number of pure bloods seemed to have an aversion to homosexuality, mainly because it might interfere with the production of children of course. He still remembered her many objections to long hair and his realisation, a number of years later that the most prominent wizard with long hair of their acquaintance had been Albus Dumbledore, who was of course, as everyone knew, screamingly gay! Most wizards thought those opinions offensive and outdated but Molly was relentlessly old-fashioned in many ways.

He was shocked at his brother's revelation, he was a bit appalled if he was honest with himself. But he had never seen George look so scared, not his brave, fearless big brother.

"You are not a bad guy, George, you didn't deserve to lose him. Fred didn't deserve to die, any more than Remus did or Tonks or Moody, they were casualties in a pointless fucking war."

George grabbed Ron's hand and held it close to his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice sounded rough and croaky, "Thank you, for not judging, thank you for being here, for all this time, for all these years." He lifted Ron's fingers to his lips and pressed a very gentle kiss against them.

"I love you little bro, but I am absolutely fucking knackered now, all that girly emotion! I am going to bed." George gave him a lopsided smile, it was weak and watery, but it was a smile, something that had been all too rare in George's life for far too many years. 

***

Ron could hear a knocking sound. It didn't seem to be stopping any time soon. It was echoing in his head, a head which was throbbing. He tentatively opened an eye. It was morning and he felt like he had been severely battered by the Whomping Willow. 

There was an owl at the window. It was a small brown owl with ruffled feathers. Ron rolled off the sofa and landed heavily on his knees. "Oh fuck!" he muttered

The owl rapped at the window again.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," he muttered

He opened the window; the wood had swollen a bit with all the recent wet weather so it was a struggle, especially as he was so tired from the night before. The owl looked at him rather disdainfully. It stood on one leg, extending the other so that Ron could remove the letter that it carried, he gently removed the letter and replaced it with a few knuts that he found in the pocket of his crumpled jeans.

The note was from Flybinight, asking whether he was upset. Ron stuffed it into his pocket and padded into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"Morning, bro." George was already in the small sunny kitchen, making coffee and taking warm croissants out of the oven with a pair of red checked oven gloves.

He seemed very occupied in his task, as if he could not quite bring himself to look at his brother.

"S'okay, George," Ron said. He walked up to his brother and gently squeezed his arm. "It really is okay."

George turned and gave him a watery smile. "Thanks, mate. When did you grow up to become such a perceptive guy?"

Ron gave his brother his best goofy grin and gestured with his head to an object on the table. It was a pensieve. He hadn't seen one for years, not since the Horcrux hunt with Harry and Hermione. This one was made of green veined marble with carvings around the outside. He hadn't known that his brother even had a pensieve, they were exceedingly rare.

"What's that all about?"

"Urm, I don't think that I did a very good job last night, you know? Supporting you, helping you with what's going on, er... this has got some memories that I think you should see."

Ron paled, and George smiled at him ruefully.

"Don't worry, I'm not sharing my memories, me and Fred, they're private, I'll never share them. But what's in the pensieve they were given to us, when we first knew that we needed to be together. We freaked out, both of us. The memories helped."

"Who…?" Ron began.

"We'll talk tonight, you need to take some time, take the day off. You have bloody earned it you know, more than earned it. I'll see you later, yeah?"

George left, snagging a warm croissant and a mug of thick black coffee on his way out.

Ron pulled out a chair and sat on it staring at the pensieve.

"Well, fuck me."

Ron sat and nursed his coffee; unlike George, he liked his morning beverage milky and sweet.

Ron cradled his mug. He wasn't terribly hungry, which had to be a first for him, his stomach was churning, he felt anxious and worried and ever so slightly numb, all at the same time.

So much had had happened in the past twenty-four hours. Ron's life had run on well-ordered lines for almost twenty years. He had married his childhood sweetheart, had two kids, worked solidly. First in his brother's business, and as his children had got older he had worked part-time and for free, repairing brooms at the Quidditch club that he had adored as a child.

He hadn't been stuck in a rut so much as buried in one. But as of yesterday everything had changed. What he had discovered about Fred and George shocked him, but what he had finally realised about himself had rocked him to his very soul. In the past he had managed to bury his preferences, pretend that they didn't exist. But he knew that after his experience the day before that would no longer be possible. 

"What the fuck am I going to tell Hermione?" he muttered to himself. "She'll probably kill me, and who would blame her?"

The bowl of the pensieve was wide and shallow, and without any conscious decision Ron fixed his attention on that as an alternative to thinking about his marriage or his wife, or his sexuality. He could easily see the swirling white memories that inhabited it. They were fascinating, mesmerising, Ron leaned a little closer, reached out a hand, which clutched the rim of the bowl and then he was falling forward into the churning morass.

***

 

It was a summer's day, the sky was a glorious blue with not a cloud to be seen. He was beside the lake at Hogwarts and he could see the towers of the school in the background. There were two boys lying beneath their tree, the one that he and Hermione and Harry used to sit under. One of the boys, he seemed to be the taller of the two, was propped on his elbows, head back, throat exposed, his tawny brown hair tumbled loosely over his shoulders. He was gazing at the canopy above them, talking to his companion in quiet modulated tones.

"So, do think they are kissing yet?" he asked, turning his head away from Ron's view slightly to look at his companion.

The other boy lifted his head. He had been peering at his lap, his features hidden by his tumbling black curls, and when Ron saw his face for the first time, he couldn't help but gasp. The boy was simply beautiful. He had a wide, generous mouth, which curved up at the corners. He had a firm chin, high cheek bones and dark arched eyebrows. His eyes were still lowered, focussed exclusively on the boy that he was with, he looked at him as if his friend were his whole life, his everything.

The boy with tawny hair sat up then and his dark friend lifted those gorgeous lashes, finally revealing his eyes, eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, silver grey and full of joy and laughter. Ron gasped again as the boy's face came into full view, he knew him and the revelation hit him forcefully. It was Sirius Black. He looked so young so vibrant, so full of life. Twelve years in Azkaban had ravaged the man, ruined his handsome features, diminished his effervescence. 

"I think James will do his damnedest to at least get a kiss," Sirius said. His voice sounded so much softer than Ron remembered. "He has waited long enough, I am just really glad that she finally decided to give him a chance." 

Sirius looked down again, but not before Ron caught sight at the look of sadness on his face, "I hope he takes his chance," he said sadly. "He's lucky to get one."

Even as far away as he was standing Ron could see the naked hunger on the boy's face. Just for a second Sirius reached out as if he wanted to touch his companion, the boy who, Ron realised with a start, must be Remus Lupin. But then he pulled back his hand and clenched it in his lap instead. The other boy had lain back down and he didn't notice the action at all and then the memory faded away. 

***

It was winter in the next memory. Sirius was sitting in Gryffindor looking out the window, Harry's window. Ron could see snow falling heavily outside. Remus walked in. Ron could see him clearly this time, he too was a handsome boy, though nowhere near as striking as Sirius, but he had strong features and a certain ruggedness. He looked older than Sirius did somehow, more worldly. He moved with an easy long-legged grace that was very attractive and that had not been apparent in the earlier memory.

Sirius turned round to look at his friend, and Ron wondered if they had got together yet. But then seeing the longing look that Sirius shot the other boy as he walked by, he guessed not. "James asked her and she said yes," Remus said. He was smiling a bright happy grin that brought a dancing light to his amber eyes. "Who would have thought it, eh? James and Lily are getting married as soon as they leave school!"

He seemed delighted, they both did. They looked so vibrant and alive, the two boys, and just for a moment Ron felt overwhelmed at the loss of these shining young men.

"That's great, Moony," Sirius said. "Where has James gone?"

"He and Peter have gone down to the Quidditch pitch so James can fly a bit and burn off some energy. He says to meet him later and we can sneak into Hogsmeade and celebrate.

"And guess what?" Remus said, sounding a little breathless. He was looking at himself in the long mirror that hung over his chest of drawers. He was combing his hair and smiling a secret smile. Sirius turned to look at him. Ron could see his face clearly and he watched Sirius as Remus continued. "Robin Fortescue asked me out! I didn't even think that he had even noticed me, but he said that he had wanted to for ages…" Remus chattered on, full of excitement whilst Sirius' features became a mask of despair. 

Ron wanted to go and put his arms around the young man, who wasn't that much older than his own son and who seemed so sad. Sirius looked devastated.

"That's great, Remus," he croaked, "just great!" Ron watched Sirius paste on a smile as he supported his friend, even as he was dying inside. He wanted to shake Remus, make him see what his friend was truly feeling, but he was the phantom here and the memory was fading away.

***

In the next memory the boys seemed a little older. They were arranged on squashy sofas in a small, bright sitting room. Remus had cut his hair, he was wearing a tweed jacket, there was a suspicious fine growth of hair along his upper lip. He looked like a little boy dressing up as the man that he would one day become. By contrast Sirius' hair was longer, he was lit from behind by a patch of sunlight, which was streaming in from the open window behind him. He seemed almost ethereal in his beauty. But his face wore a deep frown. Then the door opened and another man came in.

"Oh Merlin," Ron breathed in astonishment. There could be no doubting who this man was. This man was James Potter, Harry's father. He was so like Harry! The smile that graced his lips as he manoeuvred a tray laden with drinks was Harry's, the way he moved was like Harry, the messy dark hair, the long slim limbs, all so like his son. But Ron could see so clearly what others could not when they compared Harry to his father, he could see the differences too. This man had an air of easy confidence that Harry lacked. Even after defeating Voldemort, Harry still entered a room unobtrusively, apologetically, as if he had no right to be there. These days, after all his years in the Aurors, he had a sort of manufactured sheen of confidence, but this man wore it naturally. He had no doubts about his worth or his abilities.

He was taller too, much taller than Harry and heavier. Harry was thin and wiry; he had never grown much past Ron's shoulder in height and was only a couple of inches taller than Hermione. Was this what Harry would have been like if he had grown up with his parents, loved and cared for?

Ron felt very sad for a moment, almost as if he belatedly realised what Harry had truly lost when he lost his parents. This young man was visual evidence of it.

"Lils is asleep," James Potter said, as he placed the tray on the low table in front of Sirius and Remus. "Harry kept us awake all night, he's teething, so that's what's making him cranky 'cos normally he is such a good baby."

Ron held his breath. He wondered whether he might see Harry momentarily.

"What about Harry?" Remus asked, unknowingly echoing Ron's thoughts. 

"He's still sleeping, worn out from exhausting his parents," James said. He had that goofy smile that dads wore when they talked about their offspring, Ron knew it well; he had worn it a few times himself.

James sat down beside his friends with a tired grin. "You still up for the Godfather job, Padfoot?" he asked. He was looking at Sirius, whose eyes cut in Remus' direction. "I'm really sorry, Moony. I wish we could have you too. It's just really hard right now what with being in hiding and everything, perhaps when we get out of here we could recognise you in some way, but having to hide like this..."

Now that Harry's father was sitting quite close, Ron could see the look of worry in his eyes, the tightening of the mouth and jaw, the frown lines that were etching themselves into his skin, and Ron realised with a jolt how young this man was. He had been what, twenty when he'd died, twenty-one?

Remus was smiling back at his friend. He looked like he was about to say something but then the conversation was cut short by a baby's cry.

"You want to go get him?" James asked. Ron's heart clenched at how happy the previously rather crestfallen werewolf looked when James asked that question. Remus nodded eagerly, got up and left in the direction of the cries.

Sirius watched him go with a rather naked expression on his face.

"You should tell him how you feel, Pads." James' face was full of sympathy.

But when Sirius looked back at his friend his own eyes were blazing with emotion. "I've tried, Prongs," he muttered. "I've dropped all kinds of hints, but he won't even look at me. He's been out with other guys, but he doesn't seem to see me, doesn't think of me that way I guess."

"Of course he thinks of you that way," James said, "It's obvious. He watches you when he thinks you aren't looking, that look he gets in his eyes sometimes, anyone can see that he loves you too. But he is never gonna ask you, mate. It has to come from you 'cos he won't ask, can't ask being what he is. Those men he's been out with, it's never lasted. I don't think he's told a single one of 'em, but you mate, he loves you, what you think matters.

"Who knows how much longer we all have? Do it while you can, live while you can, Siri. Promise me that you'll at least try? What have you got to lose?" 

Sirius looked up at his friend, and spoke in a broken voice. "I could lose his friendship, Jamie, and I couldn't bear that." James put out a hand and placed it on his friend's shoulder. Ron remembered Harry doing that to him once when he'd been upset about something. He couldn't remember what about, but the gesture was so familiar that Ron gasped out loud.

"You won't lose him, Siri! He cares about you too." James gave his friend a cheesy grin and Sirius laughed. 

The door opened and a figure came through it carrying a small child, seemingly only a few months old. The baby was cuddled against the man's shoulder, chewing away at the thick woollen jumper, his bright green eyes danced with laughter and his small head was a mass of dark messy hair. Ron moved closer, urgently wanting to see the child more closely, but the memory faded away.

***

The next memory felt different. The earlier memories had had a certain lightness about them a hopefulness. This memory felt darker, like a chilly winter afternoon.

This time he was at Grimmauld Place. There were three people seated at the battered kitchen table. Ron moved closer and gasped in shock once again as he saw who the people were. It was Sirius again, but this time he was much older. His hair was straggly and lacklustre, his features were drawn and pale. This was the Sirius Ron remembered. He was still a good-looking young man, but his looks had faded, diminished. Too much sadness and the loss of so much had altered him tremendously.

The other two people were the ones that really made his heart ache at seeing them again so young, so fresh. It was Fred and George who helped populate this memory. If Ron had felt a certain sadness when he had seen Sirius and Remus and James, then it was nothing to what he felt when he saw the twins as they were, as he remembered them. Bright and shining and full of life, they were holding hands and looking so hopefully at Sirius that Ron's breath caught in his chest.

This memory was different. The others had been Sirius', they had felt like him somehow, but this memory, it seemed, belonged to George.

Sirius was talking to the twins, he seemed to be reassuring them.  
"There were so many memories like the ones I have shown you both, far too many. I did listen to James, I spoke to Remus just a few days later. We sat together in James and Lily's garden, and I told him how I felt. He didn't reject me, he was overjoyed. He told me he thought we never stood a chance, that I would never love a werewolf, that nobody could love him."

Sirius had been staring at the table, but now he lifted his head and looked directly at the twins. "A week after that, Harry was Christened and two weeks later James and Lily went into hiding. Suspicion fell on Remus, and within a month James and Lily were dead, Harry was orphaned and I was on my way to Azkaban."

Sirius' eyes were bright again, but this time they were bright with tears. "Don't make the mistakes that we did. If you love each other, don't let anything keep you apart. We could have had years together, but because I left it so late we had only a few weeks. So much time wasted."

"But we are twins," Fred said. "Brothers! And yet I love him more than anything. Can we really do this? Can we be together, should we be together?"

"You shouldn't allow anyone to keep you apart." It was Remus who had spoken. He had moved out of the shadows to stand beside Sirius, supporting him with his presence. "I was worried about the fact that no-one would want me. Being with a werewolf is still considered taboo, it was even worse back then. I would go out with boys, men that asked me, but they never lasted more than a few weeks. I didn't tell them the truth, because I didn't want to see the disgust in their eyes, I never thought that anyone who knew what I am would want me. But Sirius did. I couldn't believe it when he told me how he felt, I really couldn't. I fought against it, I thought Sirius would suffer for being with me, but in the end it didn't matter anyway, because it was already far too late."

Remus' hand had come up to rest on his lover's head, and he gently, almost unconsciously, started playing with Sirius' hair. It was obvious to Ron, watching the memory now, that Sirius and Remus were lovers.

"Don't waste a moment, boys," Sirius said. "If you love each other, don't worry about the rest of the world, you are the only ones that count."

The twins turned to look at each other and George smiled shyly at his twin. Fred's hand came up to stroke his brother's cheek. Ron could not miss the tender regard that they each had for the other. in the corner of the memory, Sirius and Remus were smiling broadly 

Then it was as if the room was spinning around him. Ron felt overwhelmed, dizzy, so he closed his eyes and gave into the sensation of being wrenched away. When he opened his eyes again he was back at the kitchen table and Hermione was sitting opposite him.

Ron thought that his heart might have stopped. "Fucking hell, Hermione!" he spluttered. "Are you trying to kill me?" 

Hermione smiled. "Hi, love," she said. "George told me you were here. He said he thought that you might need to talk." She reached her hands across the table and held his. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Ron gave a slightly bitter laugh. "No Hermione," he said, "I don't think that I am."

Hermione squeezed his hands gently. "I think we need to have a chat, don't we?" she said.

"Hermione," Ron began, "I snogged a bloke and I think I am gay."

Ron had to give his wife credit. her eyes widened and she looked a bit surprised, but she didn't pick up the bowl that sat beside them and hit him over the head with it, and for that Ron could only be grateful. Instead she swallowed heavily, held his hands a bit more tightly and said, "And?"

So Ron told his story again, but to his wife this time.

"You are not gay, Ron," Hermione said, when he had told her his story, or at least given her the edited highlights. "Believe me, I should know." She gave him a rather wicked grin. "Remember Lavender? I don't think you could get anyone more girly than her, do you?" 

This time, Ron's laugh was lighter.

"I'd forgotten about her."

"Don't let her hear you say that, she thinks she is unforgettable."

"But I kissed a man, Hermione, and I liked it."

"One kiss doesn't make you gay, Ronald." 

"No, but it sure as hell tells us that there is something wrong with us, doesn't it?"

"Well yes, it does, but then we have known that for quite a long time, haven't we?"

Ron felt like he had been stabbed through the heart with a sharp knife.

"We…we...have?" he stuttered.

Hermione gave him a scathing look

"Ronald, you have just kissed another man. Of course, there is something wrong with our marriage! You are a good husband Ron, and I am very fond of you, but we are not in love anymore are we?"

Ron felt a deep wave of sadness at his wife's words, but he couldn't deny the truth of them.

"So what are we going to do?" he asked.

"I think we should just take each day as it comes," Hermione said, "and I think you should explore your new found gay tendencies." She softened her words with a gentle smile.

"Oh Hermione," Ron said sadly.

Hermione picked up his hand and gave it a tender kiss.

"Do you think I am gay, then?" 

Hermione smiled again. "No love, I just think that you just have a thing for dark-haired Seekers. Who knows how long it's going to last? Just give it a try, get it out of your system. Let Viktor take care of you for a while, you do deserve that, Ronald, you deserve to be looked after. You have been there for us all for years. You have been so strong for me, for George, for Harry, and your family. You need a break, Ron, take it. Have some fun. Viktor has been lusting after you since we were seventeen years old."

"ME?" Ron shrieked, "Krum fancied me?" 

"Yes, Ron, he did."

"But it was you, he liked you."

"Yes, he did, for several weeks in fourth year. But then we kissed."

"You kissed him?" Ron squeaked, surprised at the pang of jealousy that ran through him at that statement. He couldn't tell whether he was more jealous of Hermione or Krum, and wasn't that telling of his weird emotional state?

Hermione gave Ron another one of her scathing looks.

"Of course we kissed, Ron. But there was nothing there, no feeling, no spark. But we have stayed friends, and at Bill and Fleur's wedding he asked me if you were available. But you weren't then, you hadn't fallen in love with Harry at that point, either."

Ron didn't speak, he couldn't speak, he just let out a rather undignified squeak.

"Did you think that I didn't notice?"

"Oh Hermione," Ron whispered, "how long have you known, how I felt about Harry?" 

Her smile had turned sad. "Ever since you rescued him from the lake. You never could hide your feelings from me."

"And yet you married me, knowing how I felt about Harry?"

"I knew you still loved me, we were all so close. I loved Harry in my own way. Almost as much as I loved you."

"Loved."

Hermione was right, the passion that they had once shared had mellowed, worn away over the years.

"I do still love you, you know?" he whispered. 

"I know you do, sweetheart," she said. "And I love you, too."

***

It was another four days and about fifteen owls later (all from a seemingly increasingly desperate Cuthbert) before Ron could bring himself to return to the club. He felt ragged somehow, fragmented, but his workshop had always been a sort of sanctuary for him and he needed to be there, to recuperate.

He and Hermione and talked and talked. For now they were just going to let things develop and see what happened. At least things were going to be okay between them, he could not have borne it if they were no longer friends. Hermione had been a part of his life for so very long, he could not even think of being without her. He wondered idly what Harry would think. But finally his wife had had to return to work, yet another conference beckoned and seemingly mountains of paperwork and so they had parted, for now at least.

The Chudley Cannons building didn't look any different from the day he had left, which really bothered him somehow. Everything had changed for Ron and he thought that the world should have taken note. But it hadn't, it had carried on without him.

A figure came out of the front entrance. It was Forbes Fletcher. He was carrying a case which presumably held his broom. Sporting a black eye and an even blacker scowl, he did not even pause to spare him a glance as he hurried past Ron. 

One of the Cannons' Beaters, Hortense Bulstrode, Millie's younger sister, appeared in his wake. She was heavier than Fletcher by several stone and taller by several inches and she closely followed the ex-Seeker out of the building. Hortense was generally fairly sweet natured and seemingly very fond of Ron, but today she wore a frown. That changed when she saw him. She gave him a big smile and wandered over. "Hey Weasley," she said, "good to see you, you coming back? Flybinight's been looking for you."

"Yeah, I know, Hortense, thanks for telling me."

"We missed you, Ron. Fletcher won't upset you any more, we told him a thing or two, told him how much you mean to us, he won't be bothering us again."

Ron blushed. He was warmed by Hortense's words. He should probably be shocked that Hortense had used her fists in his defence, as he rather suspected that she had been responsible for the black eye that Fletcher was sporting. But he secretly found himself pleased and rather touched instead.

He gave her a smile of thanks and headed upstairs.

Cuthbert Flybenight was in his office. The way his face lit in a broad smile too warmed Ron even more.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he said. "We thought you'd given up on us."

"Sorry mate, things were a bit tough for a day or two. I had to clear my head, sort some things out."

"And did you? Sort things out I mean?"

"Yeah, thanks Cuthbert, I did."

"Good." Flybinight, gave him another one of his beaming smiles. "Because it isn't the same without you. You are needed here, Ron, you are valuable to us, in many, many ways. I am sorry that I upset you. Did the fact that I got Krum in without mentioning anything piss you off?"

"No…not really," Ron said, with a wry smile, seeking to reassure his friend, although he had indeed felt a little unsettled by the sudden change. "Erm….why did you…erm, not tell me, I mean?"

"Because, Viktor asked me not to, as a favour to him. He wanted it to be a surprise."

"But you even didn't tell me that you approached Krum."

"That's because I didn't. He came to us. I think he really likes you, Ron, 'cos he wanted to work with you he said."

"Cuthbert, I just fix brooms!"

"Must be your boyish charm then."

"Oh fuck off, you daft prat!" Ron said.

Cuthbert chuckled.

"He has moved into Fletcher's old office, just in case you want to say hello," he offered slyly.

Ron laughed.

"I might just go and say hi then," he said, and feeling lighter than he had for a very long time, Ron left Flybinight's office and headed downstairs to his workshop. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he saw a dark, compact figure turn off the light in Fletcher's old office and head down the stairs in the direction of his workroom. He didn't know if the other man had spotted him yet, so he moved forward out of the shadows. 

Krum glanced over at Ron, alerted by the movement, and saw that he was being watched. He grinned in a rather self-satisfied way and gave Ron a questioning look. Ron returned his smile and nodded. Krum's grin widened and he quickened his pace. He really didn't look that much like Harry when Ron thought about it. He was much stockier than Harry was, his eyes were a deep dark brown, and he had an air of confidence, of arrogance that Harry had never had. Ron felt absurdly flattered that Krum might have come to join the Cannons at least in part because Ron was here. 

The Bulgarian swaggered a bit as he walked purposefully in Ron's direction, but there was just something about him, the way he held himself, his compactness and all that thick, dark hair that left Ron feeling very interested to say the least.

He wasn't sure what would happen now, how his life might alter. There had been so much upheaval, so many changes in the last few days. But he felt that he had come to understand his brother far more than he ever had before and with that understanding had come acceptance, and whatever occurred in the future, Hermione still cared for him and had given him her support. He had no idea how things might progress from here, but for once in his life he was going to give it a go and see what happened. He turned and started walking purposefully towards his workshop knowing that Krum would follow. As he walked his smile widened and he felt a tingle of anticipation. He could not help but think as he walked along, doggedly pursued by a handsome Bulgarian, that maybe Hermione was right and he did have a thing for dark-haired Seekers after all.


End file.
